


Incremental Progress

by zeteram



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, aside from avoiding Saint I mean, there's some O14 in the background because of course there is, what is osiris doing this season anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeteram/pseuds/zeteram
Summary: Halfway between a dream and a prophecy, Osiris travels around the system to see what his vision means and how he can change it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Incremental Progress

When it comes, it’s more a dream than a vision - shadowy forms attacking the City with pyramids hanging in the sky, their silhouettes looking like teeth against the osseous glow of the Traveler. Osiris stands against them, a candleflame in the dark, but he cannot hold alone. He knows this, has seen it, but this time there is a variation: a spark guided carefully through the threads of fortune until it has passed the gauntlet and come out the other side stronger than before. A single Guardian stands with him, and together they fight.

He wakes before the battle ends, but there is a comfort in not knowing.

There are certain things he has left too long in his responsibility to the Sundial; it could not be abandoned for more than a quick visit somewhere with the Psion Flayers about, but they have been dealt with and the Lighthouse Beacon has stabilized time on Mercury. There is a meeting in the City he cannot avoid any longer, and he goes to it gladly. He speaks difficult words of his regrets and is forgiven for them, humbled by gentle strength that matches his own. He lets go of the regrets, and they fly away on peristeronic wings. 

He speaks with his former student, now grown into her own fully realized splendor, brings her his concerns and intentions, and in turn he listens to hers - something he’s failed to do many times in the past. He is trying to be better about it now. She appreciates the effort, even if it needs practice. They drink tea long into the night, watching shards of the Traveler orbit over the busy metropolitan activity of Humanity at its finest.

Shadowy forms attack the City in his dreams, their silhouettes still eating chunks out of the waning orb of Light. Tenebrous red shapes, alike and unlike their traditional foes, feast upon the bones of buildings and dance among the fresh ruins. Osiris stands against them, but the spark is there to stand before him and the strength of the Void is on either side. They begin to make headway into the enemy forces, regaining corrupted ground and purifying it with each step they take.

He wakes once, but is encircled by strong, synthetic arms, and when he eventually drifts off again, his mind makes more pleasant landscapes for him to explore.

The renegade has been left to wander the cursed roads for too long; he wants to see for himself what he’s been consulted on, and Osiris visits the Vestian Web again after a hiatus of several years. Many old faces are gone, never to be seen again in the same form, but he accepts this as a price of the changing world they live in. He listens to a Techeun’s voice, brittle under its sonorance; bolstered by his own impossible gift, he offers what absolution is his to give. He learns much of what changed and what remained, and although what he learns is not comforting he is grateful for the insight.

He searches further within the curse, almost to its heart. What he learns in ascendant shadows gives him pause, but there is no reward without risk; he weighs it and finds the risk worthwhile. The renegade eludes him, but he offers what advice he can to the Corsairs. The curse remains unattenuated; conversely, those Lightbearers who fight it grow ever stronger. He sees an ending, but it is still shrouded in brumous uncertainty. He does not share this for fear it will not come to pass, but he holds the image close to examine again once the mists clear.

Blood-tinged Darkness assaults the City once again, walls falling and the ubiquitous pyramids tracing starless paths across the sky. The evanescent glow of the Traveler above is barely enough to see by, but it persists regardless. The unclear forms of the enemies remain unlike anything he’s seen, but a startlingly familiar shape is now fighting alongside Osiris: Fallen no more, an Eliksni warrior with a new banner leads others of his kind fighting alongside Humanity against the shadows. The spark of Light is joined by a masked twin, and he wonders at it even as they dance in harmony to dispel the shadows. The Void remains to either side, and they begin to push away from the last bastion of the Tower to regain more ground.

He swears it’s music that awakens him this time, a desperately missed voice singing in battle, but Sagira notices nothing.

Osiris traces Toland to the Moon, and he greets its self-appointed Warden with the respect he’s always had for her displayed evidently in his tone; in turn, he’s greeted with a calm confidence she lacked in their last meeting. It eases some strain in him to see Eris like this, commanding and assured. They speak for long hours of galvanized threats and modified responses, giving a name to the Nightmares he has seen in his sleep.

They attempt to draw him in, and he follows one from curiosity to see where it leads. The relentless push to understand his enemies has not always been looked upon as a virtue by others, and he acknowledges this even as he lays eyes on the buried Pyramid. He banishes the shade of his old mentor with new memories and a pledge of help from one long dormant; even now, the Guardians awaken the Warmind in their time of need, and he is not unresponsive. The flame of his conviction sears away the invasive doubts, and the Pyramid cannot take hold of him.

Its presence, however, is a thread of concern he cannot help picking at. Why here? Why now? Coincidence is too often a sign of incomplete understanding. He speaks to Eris with a candor that might surprise many but would be familiar to a very select few; she concurs, and they worry it like a dog with a bone. No useful conclusions are reached, and he finds himself picking out Mercury from the starscape when he emerges from the twisting catacombs of the Hellmouth. He sends Reflections there when he can, quashing the urge to visit in person for now; knowing it is only a temporary delay keeps his forward momentum from flagging.

The shadows have grown in his absence, and the sparks are nearly subsumed by what he now calls Nightmares. The defenders persist, though, and are joined by a new figure wielding bright flame that pierces the truculent Dark even as it dispels it. Osiris watches it as closely as he can, but the details are too vague to be useful unless he neglects his own battles; he is unwilling, even in dreams, to let his determination flag. Together the forces of Light hold their ground, but there is none to be gained in tonight’s skirmish.

Around him, as tightly choreographed as one of the ballets the Warmind favors, the system grows its defenses to combat a distant threat. The Earth and Moon construct Warsat after Warsat to halt the inexorable advance of the Almighty’s kamikaze flight, while those on Io are to serve as advance guard to another front. He descends into one of the bunkers to keep an eye on the capricious old man and sees the chilling shapes advance slowly toward the inner planets. A stab of pain alerts him to his unconscious grip on the rimy seed, and he debates with himself regarding the pitfalls and blind spots Eris had pointed out to him. The balance is precarious at the best of times, and though he’s surrounded by evidence of Rasputin’s support he holds back his full trust from the Warmind. How not, when the best indicator of future behavior is past behavior?

Yet it is also an undeniable truth that people change, and the Warmind is complex enough to be counted as a person in this instance. He cannot be discounted as a player, and so Osiris had demanded he choose a side; the omens had been favorable since. It’s a move he doesn’t regret, at least not until the ripples further out can be viewed with any certainty. He could wish for more strongholds this far out in the system, but wishes are nothing to take lightly and always come with a price. It’s a price he’s not yet willing to pay, though he keeps the option open in case he becomes desperate. Time will tell on that front, as it always does.

He misses the searing heat of Mercury. It’s definitely that and not wanting to see Saint-14 again, he deludes himself as he sets a course for the innermost planet. Sagira has been nagging him to take a break, and he admits the justice of her statement that he would see more clearly if he could rest and process what he’s learned. It’s been a busy few weeks, and little he’s discovered is reassuring; the wheels are turning, and whether to grease them or jam them is still a larger picture than he can see.

The hot desert breath and the sands beneath his feet let a tension in his shoulders relax, and the distant pulse of Void Light gives Osiris a rare smile even as its bearer rushes toward him. The threads must be woven together in order to hold; a single skein may break but a braided rope will hold far more than it ought. Though he tends toward solivagant ways, the recurring theme of his nightly journeys is that many defenders of the Light may be able to succeed where a single Guardian fails. He is strong alone, but they must all use their strength together if they are to weather the coming storm. Crushed in an embrace, he knows the burden is not his alone to bear.

He sleeps, later, and dreams of the same changing battlefield as before. Or does he? The fighting is outside the walls now, though whether the advance was stopped or the ground was reclaimed is moot. The jagged maws have been taken down, and the crashed monoliths crack like a spider’s nest and spew forth denizens in wave after wave, yet each crashes against the defenders with the futility of another ancient battle. Then, as now, he has a laughing Titan at his side, unstoppable; now, unlike then, the Eliksni roar in defense of the City and are found worthy at last. The threads coalesce into a searing light, and the Darkness retreats as dawn turns to day.

It lacks the spark of a true vision, but even with all the study he’s devoted to time and its pathways, Osiris has never truly been certain that his prophecies have not fulfilled themselves. The best he can do is to warn obliquely when he can, act decisively when he must, and, at the last, trust others to bear the flame when he cannot. He is still working on this last part, and has failed more times than he cares to admit.

But he is getting better at it. It is worth something, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I admit the entire prompt for this was to use the word "peristeronic" (of or relating to pigeons) in a sentence.


End file.
